Darkness is a thick blanket that threatens to choke any who ventured out in it. If I wanted to, I felt I could cut it with one of my daggers. The moon above offers no light as I slip through the tangle of tents, the clink of my knives quieted for this mission. No one needs to know of my quest.
In my hand rests a roll of parchment, the spider-web scrawl visible to my magic altered sight. The red writing, no doubt written in blood, holds a most precious secret, one I am assigned to protect with my life. I have to get it out of the camp and into the hands of their enemy, for I am a Messenger, and this letter is from an allied Spy.
My breath becomes visible in the air, creating a thick cloud that I cut through with my body. The rise and fall of my chest hastens as I quicken my steps, now passing the Admiral's tent. This is tricky part. Between here and the thunder of dragons lies an army of sleeping bodies, whose snores are an ungodly drumbeat. Carefully, I slink my way passed the white tent of the commander, holding my breath when I see movement out of the darkened interior. He is awake!
It is too late to turn back now. Dropping to the ground, I tuck the message into the waistband of my trousers, the bandages around my torso going tight with the movement. On bent knee, I unsheathe one of my trusty daggers, the black black reflecting no light from the dying embers of the evening's fire. A grunt and yawn announces the Admiral's approach and I am thankful for the new moon night. With no light to reveal my presence, I step back, hopeful to get away silently. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy.
Without warning, I feel the rise of a hound's tail beneath my heel moments before a pained howl pierces the air. My cover has been compromised. Turning quick, I shove the parchment further down the waist of my pants, losing it completely in the recess of my loose garments. It is horribly uncomfortable.
"Oi," the Admiral's gruff, sleep heavy voice sounds. "Who goes there?"
"I, sir." I step closer to the enemy, deepening my voice to the one he recognizes. "Aiden Roche."
"Aiden," he laughs. "What in the blazes are you doing out at the ungodly hour?"
I squirm as a corner of the thick paper pressed into a rather private area. "Couldn't sleep, sir. I thought I'd check on the dragons."
"We have guards for that, young man." I see his face contort into a squint. "Why are you wiggling so? Ants in your pants?"
"It seems the night's gruel isn't good to me, sir." I struggle to keep a straight face and he steps away from me. The cooks are notoriously bad for using spoiled food in their recipes.
"Very well then. Get on about your business, and be quick about it. We move out at dawn."
I clench my fists and cross them across my chest, bowing at the waist in the Atrian salute. "Yes, Admiral Wilcox. Right away, sir."
As he goes about his business, putting out the coals in a rather manly, and disgusting, way, I make haste towards the dragons, wary of more dogs.
I see him before I feel his mind.
There are few dragon riders in the Atria army, and I just so happen to be one of them. I do not complain, for the pay is good on their terms, but it is no where near the amount the Everlyn king is paying me to chart messages back and forth. With two incomes, I feel satisfied that I will be able to pay for my sister's operation and get us a good parcel of land in some foreign country, away from this Gods forsaken war.
Careful, Sage. The guard approaches. The rumble of Whar's mind-speak rolls through my mind like a dense cloud. His presence enters my thoughts, showing me the heat image of a man walking towards my direction.
I take cover in a bush, wincing as the letter once again digs into my backside. I really hope that King Heron does not find out where this letter was hidden.
The guard seems to be walking extremely slow, and I contemplate the chances of making it across without him seeing me. I decide to bide my time.
Clenching the branches to keep me steady, I count the old man's steps until he passes, reaching the annoying amount of seventy-three. I could have done that in half the steps, and still caught a spy in the bushes. Some guard he is.
When I check that he is a safe enough distance away, and when Whar gives me the go ahead, I push from the shrubbery, masking my steps with a bit of magic. They never know what passed them, the fools, let alone what they allowed in their ranks. A female and an member of the Celestial Order? Some fearsome army this was.
Quickly, Sage, before they make their rounds again. Solstice braces his leg and I take a running start before using his claws as mounts and his scales as handholds. When I reach the level part of his foreleg, I stop. What are you doing, youngling?
"Just hold on a second, would you," I whisper fiercely into the air. I begin to undo my sword belt and trousers. "I can't ride all the way to Everly with the letter in my pants."
We could have stopped before we got to the palace. His grumbling does nothing to sway me. With my trousers loosened, I dig around until I feel the rustle of the paper beneath my finger tips. Are you done yet?
"Almost." I fumble to pull the paper out of the recess of the fabric without dropping my hold on my garments or losing my balance.
Someone approaches. With a girlish yelp, I snatch the letter and stash it under my arm, leaping onto the dragon's scaly back. The sounds of voices approach, youthful and vibrant.
"I tell you, Ivan, that boy had the chest of a woman," one says. "Something is not right about that one."
"And I think it has been a while since you've relieved yourself." A chorus of male laughter rides the air like a song.
As they approach, I spot the light of torches. I cannot stay on Solstice's back, and there is no where to hide. With a grimace at my undone pants and belt, I groan at what I will have to do. I drop my pants, put the leather of my belt between my teeth, and reach for one of the spikes that line most of my dragon's back. With both hands wrapped around the breadth if the spike, I let my body hand against Solstice's shoulder, opposite of the side the men will approach. I pray that they do not move any closer to the golden beast, for they will then see my fingers.
The muscles in my arms tense as I hear them near, and I fear they will see my pants, which have fallen to my knees, revealing my most private parts to the creatures of the night.
"Ho, ain't that the womanly man's dragon?" Oh, Hell. This is so not my night. Another round of roaring laughter fills the night, deep and booming. It is clear they have went against orders and stayed up drinking the last of their ale.
Their footsteps sound closer. "Let's see if he's friendly."
To my relief, Solstice lets loose a warning growl. I am in no mood for your foul stench tonight, drunkards. Leave me be, or it shall be my fire-breath for you.
The men scramble like chickens before the butcher. Solstice watches them leave, letting me know when they are far enough away.
Must you rub you buttocks all over me?
"Quiet." I growl, securing my pants as I balance on his saddle. I secure myself in the straps, bracing myself for lift-off. As his mighty wings beat against the air silently, I pray that the rest of the flight will be uneventful.
To be continued...
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